The Scenic Route
by tromana
Summary: The shortest distance between two points is by no means the most interesting. Who knew how long Jane and Lisbon's attraction has lasted for and just how long it's taken them to give into it? Jane/Lisbon. Part One of the Notes on a Journey series.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **The Scenic Route  
><strong>Author:<strong> tromana**  
><strong>**Rating:** T  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Jane/Lisbon  
><strong>Summary: <strong>The shortest distance between two points is by no means the most interesting. Who knew how long Jane and Lisbon's attraction has lasted for and just how long it's taken them to give into it?  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Not mine.  
><strong>Spoilers:<strong> Season Four  
><strong>Notes: <strong>Written for the Paint It Red Monthly Challenge. Prompt: Saving the World.

**The Scenic Route**

**Part One**

_17__th__ October 2012_

There was a crisp chill in the air; atypical of a late fall morning. Teresa Lisbon shivered slightly as she pulled her jacket around herself just that little bit tighter. Just because she had been born and raised in Chicago, it didn't mean she liked winters in California any more than back home. So, the wind wasn't quite as biting and there wasn't the hazard of snow, but it didn't mean there wasn't a noticeable difference between the seasons.

Still, she soldiered on. She had a job to do; why else would she be stuck in the middle of nowhere at five a.m.? And right now, her job entailed taking in the sight of a dead body and assessing the damage done to the poor soul.

Van Pelt offered her a wan smile as she approached. The younger woman suddenly yawned expansively, before turning away to hide the blush coloring her cheeks. They were used to early mornings and besides, it was obvious that she didn't like to show the chinks in her armor, especially when the boss was present.

"What do we got?" Lisbon enquired as she crouched beside the body, taking into account the impressive head wound. That was probably what had finished the man off.

"Zachary De Souza, 32, from Stockton," Cho immediately offered up, as keen as Lisbon to get out of the wind. "Died of blunt force-"

"Say that again," Lisbon demanded, much to the surprise of her coworkers.

"He died of-"

"No, no," she interrupted once more. "His name. Age."

"Zachary De Souza, aged 32?" Cho said once more, the questioning tone only noticeable to those who knew him well.

Lisbon shrugged off their looks of concern and especially, Jane's of sheer intrigue. Instead, she studied the man's features intently. From the moment she had seen the body of Zachary de Souza, she had thought he was familiar. Her heart sank a little; already, she could tell that this was going to be one of those cases that she loathed.

"You alright, boss?"

"Fine," she answered back, her tone clipped. "Anything else I need to know?"

As she listened attentively to the details, Lisbon became increasingly aware of Jane slowly but surely invading her personal space. It irritated her a little, but she also didn't bother to make a big deal out of it. After all, it was just Jane being Jane. He'd probably noticed the hint of familiarity in her eyes and thus, wanted to needle her about it. Still, he'd have to wait. They had a job to do and besides, she wasn't really in the mood to open up about her past with Jane right now. It was bad enough when he caught her off guard and got underneath her skin, but right now she was cold, tired and more than a little bit sad.

She was quietly pleased when Jane left it until they were alone together in her SUV before picking up the conversation she had been dreading. Van Pelt and Cho had drifted off to go and question De Souza's employer, while Rigsby had been sent back to the headquarters to make a start on the paper trails. Lisbon was determined to close this case as soon as feasibly possible. Then, she could go back to compartmentalizing those memories and getting on with life as per usual.

"You know him?" Jane asked quietly as she pulled away sedately.

"Knew, Jane," she corrected automatically. "He's dead."

"I know that. So?"

"So?" she echoed.

"He wasn't an ex-boyfriend, a bit young and a bit too pretty for that. This definitely isn't another William McTeer," he said with a smirk and Lisbon scowled. "A friend of your brother's, maybe?"

Automatically, Lisbon flinched just as Jane hit the nail on the head. Then, she cursed at herself for making her tells so blindingly obvious once again. She had known Jane for far too long to be like this; she should have trained herself to behave differently by now. Well, for the most part, she had, but seeing Tommy's childhood best friend lying dead, with a gaping wound to the back of his head had left her feeling a little shaken. It was more than forgivable for her to be acting in such a way. Still, all it did was provide Jane with more fuel for the fire. He was never going to leave this alone now.

"I thought as much."

"I last saw him twenty five years ago," she said, trailing off slightly.

Jane gently pressed two fingers of his right hand to her forearm. She smiled weakly in response; the gentle gesture said more than words could ever do, even out of a master like Patrick Jane. Part of her realized that this was one of the hazards of the job. Sooner or later, you were going to end up coming across a body you were familiar with. Still, it didn't make the hurt any less. When the information was no longer considered as 'classified', she knew it was going to be hell to tell Tommy what had happened. Her brother was more than likely going to be devastated.

He fell into a restive silence and Lisbon was equally relieved and worried. A quiet Jane was always something to worry about; who knew what he was ruminating about if he wasn't talking? At least if he was making a noise, she knew what havoc he was wreaking. However, at least he wasn't pushing her and knew that this was a moment to just leave her alone, to let her say goodbye to De Souza in peace. She allowed her hand to leave the steering wheel briefly, to gently stroke the cross pendant hanging around her neck and utter a silent prayer of forgiveness and hope. De Souza had been a good kid, and she could have imagined him being a great man now that he was older. The strange thing was, she hadn't even realized he had moved to California. It was funny how these things happened.

"This isn't your fault, you know."

"Of course I know that," she answered back.

"You can't save everyone."

"No, you can't," she agreed, though however much she heard and even repeated that statement to herself, it never ridded her of the lingering 'what if'.

What ifs were almost the bane of her life. What if her dad hadn't killed himself, what if her mom hadn't died so young. What if, what if, what if. She tried not to spend too much time thinking about them; it wasn't healthy and it certainly didn't help. But ignoring them didn't eradicate them either. And that was entirely the problem.

"Tell me about him," Jane said, breaking her from her reverie.

"Jane…"

"It might help," he protested. "Knowing what he was like might help us catch the killer."

Her shoulders dropped a little as she considered his logic. Already, she could feel herself giving in. But he was right. And besides, a problem shared was a problem halved. That, and even if her knowledge of a young Zachary De Souza didn't help catch his killer, it would at least make her feel a little better.

"You know, the last time I saw him, I took him and my brothers to the carnival. I would never have thought that his life would end like this."

Jane opened his mouth to respond and shot Lisbon one of his penetrating gazes at the same time. In response to his actions, Lisbon quirked a questioning eyebrow as she wondered what was going on in his mind. If only she could read minds. If only the mind was a simple thing to access. She swore Jane would make so much more sense to her, if she had access to his innermost thoughts.

But of course, mind reading, remained a mere fantasy. And it didn't help them discover who De Souza's killer was any quicker either.

xxx

_14__th__ July 1986_

Patrick Jane perched comfortably on the barrel; it was an action he had done time and time again. He rested his chin gently on his bended left knee; his right leg dangling down. Contemplatively, he took a bite out of his red delicious apple. 'Delicious' was probably exaggerating somewhat; the piece of fruit was definitely past its best, though still edible. Still, he finished it off, only throwing the core in the general direction of the horses. It wouldn't hurt them to eat it and besides, he had a fondness for the old beasts.

This was one of his favorite stops on the carnival circuit. It was the furthest East they traveled and the most Northerly location too. Summers here were always more pleasantly cool than elsewhere; the breeze taking away the bite of the blazing sunshine. Yes, being in Chicago in mid-July definitely had its perks. There were, of course, other reasons he was so fond of Chicago and that was exactly why he was sitting here, keeping an eye on everyone and everything. It was why he was waiting patiently, in the vain hope that a certain family would actually turn up. They did every year, so as far as he was concerned, there was no reason that this one should be any different.

A gentle touch of a feminine hand made him jump and Patrick almost fell off of his barrel. It took him a few seconds to regain his composure before he turned around to scowl at the person who'd disturbed him. A flurry of blonde curls and a wide grin made him bite back the sharp retort that had been brewing on his tongue. Angela Ruskin's beam merely widened especially as she knew full well that she was one of very few people to get special treatment from Patrick Jane, The Boy Wonder, who was slowly but surely growing out of his nickname.

"Angela," Patrick eventually said, still scowling. "You scared the crap out of me."

"Don't exaggerate," she chided, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting, what does it look like?"

"Oh yeah," she answered back, sarcasm almost dripping out of her voice. "The girl you like lives here, doesn't she?"

Patrick quickly decided that the best course of action was to maintain his deniability. He quickly moderated his expression, ensuring that it remained as impassive as possible. Then again, he also knew that there was very little point in that. Angela, much to his irritation, knew all of his secrets. The fact was hardly surprising, considering she was his only confidant on the carnival circuit. But still, he didn't feel like talking about it, not right now.

But she was right, of course. The girl he liked did live here, in Chicago. It was yet another reason why he was so fond of this place. Deftly, he hopped off of his perch and turned to face Angela. There was a slight hint of sadness in her eyes, something which he didn't bother to comment on. He'd long known about the candle she held for him, but there was no reason to tease her about it. After all, he treasured his friendship with her and the last thing he wanted to do was scare her away. The carnival was slowly but surely growing intolerable and she often felt like his only ally. He had to keep her onside, if only because they kept one another sane.

"I have no idea what you mean," Patrick answered back soberly.

Angela let out a dry bark of a laugh. It didn't take a psychic (fake or otherwise) to work out that she considered that to be the carnival's worst kept secret. Even Patrick Jane couldn't keep everything about himself hidden. And besides, for weeks he had been going on about just how much he had been looking forward to this specific stop. That and she had watched him behave here in exactly the same way year in, year out, for the past nine years.

As it was, Angela was the first to spot exactly who Patrick was looking for. Like him, she had an excellent memory and a good eye for detail. They were characteristics practically bred into children like them; necessary to survive their lifestyle. With a heavy sigh, Angela pointed out into the crowd mingling in front of them and Patrick cocked his head slightly to one side.

"Oh come on, Patrick, everyone knows what you think of her," she answered back, her smile not quite meeting the corner of her eyes. "There she is. I'll see you later, okay?"

His eyes roamed the crowd in the general direction that Angela had indicated. True to her word, there she was. Two young boys were holding tentatively onto their father's hand; the one on his left, the youngest of the three boys, was also clinging hold of an unfamiliar boy, probably just a friend. Meanwhile, the eldest brother was enthusiastically dragging their mother towards Pete's House of Mirrors. The raven haired girl – her long hair shorter than he remembered; she'd probably had it cut recently – walking solemnly behind. It didn't take long for him to catch her green eyes.

And he smiled. It was about time.

**TBC…**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I've surprised myself at the fact I've managed to get part two written so quickly, especially since this is so not my usual fare. Because of that, I'm especially intrigued to know what people think!

Thank you to: ararablue, TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme, idonthaveaname, Flowerfaries, Miss Peg, Brown Eyes Parker and SincerelyTruly for reviewing Part Two.

Not sure when Part Three will be up. Hopefully very soon... but reviews _do_ feed the plot bunnies. ;-)

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Two<strong>

_17__th__ October 2012_

Lisbon perched behind her desk, studying the manila file placed in front of her with great interest. Having spoken to De Souza's widow had only made her feel more depressed about the situation. He'd grown up, and had two young boys of his own. His wife was now going to have to try and explain, somehow, that daddy wasn't coming home. Sometimes, it was easy to switch off about the repercussions of the murder and just focus on catching the killer, but having more of an insight into the victim always made them that little bit more tangible.

She sighed; nothing was popping out at her and as far as she could tell, Rigsby had done just as thorough a job as she had expected of him. In a way, she was kind of glad because it meant that De Souza had stuck to the straight and narrow. The good young kid she'd known had turned out to be a respectable man. However, it also didn't give her any explanations as to why somebody would kill him, what their motive would be. And that kind of thing was always perplexing to her. Even worse was the fact that Jane could always see a motive in strange cases like this from a mile off. Which, she had always considered, was completely unfair considering _she_ was the trained professional and he was the consultant. He was meant to assist them in cases, not the other way around.

Automatically, she glanced up, briefly wondering where the man himself was. The office felt too quiet and if he decided to leave with one of the others, he usually informed her, regardless of whether or not she wanted – or needed – to know. Unless, of course, he was trying to sneak out and wreak havoc, but that was a different matter entirely. Seconds later, he practically waltzed into her office and Lisbon immediately attempted to make it look like she was busy. Despite the fact that he often gave her a welcome reprieve from boredom, especially when nothing was happening, she never liked to stroke his ego too much. He already had enough of a problem keeping it in check as it was.

"Hello, Lisbon," he said brightly.

"What do you want, Jane?"

Her tone was intentionally insufferable, but she suspected that he would see straight through it. After all, he usually did. Still, she couldn't help but wonder. Perhaps he was here to give her some foreknowledge about a reckless plan he was about to carry out, so she could do some damage limitation? No, she wouldn't be that lucky. He always claimed that deniability was her best friend, but as far as Lisbon was concerned, prevention was better than a cure. However, Jane would never see it that way as he always seemed convinced that not telling her would protect her career better. Instead, Lisbon knew that it just made her look like she had no control over him whatsoever. And she loathed looking so unprofessional in front of her bosses. Still, it was going to take more than one conversation with Jane to change that.

"You're hungry."

"No, I'm not," she answered back, balking slightly. She hadn't expected that statement.

"You haven't eaten since breakfast," he replied, smirking as she glanced away. "And you had that ridiculously early."

"I'm fine, Jane."

Really, she wasn't. The last thing she needed was him worrying about her, which was kind of ridiculous, given the fact it was well known that she was more than capable of looking after herself and _he_ was the one who had problems. And besides, she had to wonder what it was that had triggered his sudden bout of concern. She watched nervously as in one swift movement, he grabbed her jacket and swiped her cell phone off of her desk at the same time.

"Hey, I need that!"

She glared at him as he pocketed it, still smiling. As he turned to head towards the door, she stood up, her irritation with him growing.

"Jane!"

"If you want it back, you can come with me."

Lisbon rolled her eyes in response. It looked like this was going to be one of these times when it was going to be quicker to give into him than fight him. Then again, it was too often that way. Sometimes, it forced her to wonder what the hell had happened to her backbone when it came to him. It was always then that she remembered she found him too damn endearing to stay mad for too long.

"You better be paying," she growled as she snatched her jacket back.

"Oh you drive a hard bargain, woman," he answered, chortling a little. "Of course I'm paying, but only because _I'm _driving too."

It wasn't long until she was sitting at their favorite place, with a meatball sub in hand. It had been way too long since she had last had one, and as she took her first bite, she grudgingly decided that Jane had made a sound decision, for a change. Besides, until Van Pelt and Cho got back from De Souza's employers and they could have a briefing session to catch up on the case, there was very little they could do. And it felt good to be out of the office, it meant that she could look at things with a slightly different perspective of things.

"Jane?"

"Yes, Lisbon?"

"Do you ever wonder if things would be different, if…"

She trailed off. The line of thought was ridiculous and pointless. It was another one of those 'what if' moments, something she couldn't change. Instead, there was just the lingering guilt and regret for not having jumped at the opportunity when it had presented itself in the first place. It was impossible to change the past, however much she wished she could. She needed to stop thinking like this, but in a way, she knew she couldn't help it. Coming across De Souza's body this morning had opened up a whole can of worms that she had kept shut for a long time.

"If?" he prompted, just as she expected him to.

Lisbon shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

Slowly, Jane reached out and covered her left hand with his own. The look of sincerity in his eyes at moments like this always caught her off guard. There was something about the way Jane looked at her sometimes which made it feel like he was boring into her soul. Lisbon always found that sensation especially uncomfortable. People had secrets for a reason and she didn't like the idea that somebody could get them out of her so easily.

"Of course it matters. Why would you have started to say so?"

"Fine," she agreed reluctantly. "Do you ever wonder if seemingly insignificant decisions you made as a child have serious repercussions on your adult life? Do you ever think what it would be like if you could change the path you chose to took if you were younger?"

"Like?"

"Oh, I don't know. Like marrying your first crush or-"

Jane glanced away and yet again, Lisbon felt that creeping sensation of guilt overcome her.

"Oh _Jane_," she whispered and took hold of his hand more firmly. "I'm sorry, I should never…"

He looked up at her, eyeing her seriously.

"All the time," he answered back.

xxx

_14__th__ July 1986_

Just as Angela had done to him mere minutes earlier, Patrick tapped the girl lightly on the shoulder. Her family was planning to enter Pete's House of Mirrors, so he saw it as the perfect opportunity to catch her attention. She wheeled around on her heels and almost smacked him in the nose, but Patrick still found he couldn't care less. As far as he was concerned, she was still that petite beauty she had been a year ago. And she had, quite obviously, grown a bit since he'd seen her last, but that was unsurprising. In a young girl's life, a year was quite a considerable passage of time. Still, to Patrick's eye, she was clearly developing into a beautiful young woman.

Half of him wished he could see her every single day. If only his lifestyle wasn't so erratic, if only he had the means to leave the carnival…

Still, he'd learned to make do with these brief moments, just once a year. It was better than nothing at all.

"Hi, Teresa," he muttered softly down her ear.

"Daniel," she whispered, looking nervously over her shoulder at her mom. "You scared the crap out of me."

"Don't exaggerate," he chided, using the exact tone Angela had used when he'd said the very same words minutes earlier. "You knew I'd come and talk to you, sooner or later."

Years ago, when he'd been embarrassed about being the 'Boy Wonder' and had just wanted to escape for a couple of hours, he'd told her his name was Daniel. That _Patrick_ had been his twin brother, who was chronically shy, unless he was putting on the show. Despite some initial skepticism from her part, she had eventually bought the lie. Somehow, he'd managed to keep it up all these years. Patrick knew that one day, he'd have to tell her the truth, that Daniel Jane was just a figment of his imagination. In the meantime, he was more than happy to just escape to a place where nothing could hurt him, whenever he saw young Teresa Lisbon.

"I'll be two minutes."

Patrick nodded and held back. He watched as she scurried up to her father, quickly making excuses to leave with him. When the man looked in his direction, Patrick held his head down reverentially. The last thing he wanted to do was offend her parents. Eventually, the man cracked a smile and finally seemed willing to send his daughter off for a brief break from the family. She was a growing girl; being with her three brothers, and another young boy, was probably stifling for her. Really, she needed some space just to be herself.

And Patrick liked to think he offered her that perfect window of opportunity. It was easier to convince Mr. and Mrs. Lisbon of his intentions now. At least he wasn't trying to whisk their seven year old daughter away anymore. Besides, they had grown used to his presence and practically expected him to interrupt the yearly family trip to the carnival now.

However, he was also more than aware that Teresa was beginning to reach a very tender age, one where most fathers grew incredibly protective of their daughters. He was faintly surprised that the man hadn't bothered to approach him and give him the whole 'what are your intentions to my daughter?' speech. Then again, he was just carnie folk and he probably didn't see him as any threat whatsoever. Teresa barely got any chance to spend any time with him. Thus, he was probably considered as simply that amusing, simple young boy with the precocious twin brother within the Lisbon family.

That was a charade he was more than happy to continue playing, provided it meant spending more time with her.

"Sorry about that," she muttered darkly, clearly embarrassed. "He said I have to find him again in two hours."

Two hours wasn't long. Patrick, however, masked his disappointment, reminding himself it was better than nothing. After all, there had been no guarantees that she was going to come this year at all. The family could have moved out of state, gone through some sort of crisis or simply just decided not to bother at all. So, he slipped his hand in her own and tugged her along, weaving through the crowds. He knew exactly where he was taking her; somewhere where his father and Angela couldn't discover them. Somewhere where he could just catch up with her and spend the two hours just staring into her beautiful green eyes.

He always forgot just how stunning that shade of green was. This time, he was determined to commit them to memory. It always seemed like such a waste to forget just how beautiful they were.

There was a hill which overlooked the site which the carnival camped out on every year. This time around, the tigers were located closest to it and Patrick allowed Teresa a brief moment to admire the mighty beasts. They were, after all, a relatively new addition to their carnival and quite obviously, a huge crowd pleaser. The look of delight in her eyes made Patrick wish that he could show her around early one morning, before they opened the doors to the general public. She would have loved the opportunity to feed the menagerie of beasts they had.

He cast the thought aside, albeit temporarily. It was plausible that she could somehow sneak her in the morning, he considered. Maybe he'd ask her, when he wasn't too busy admiring how beautiful she looked in the sunlight, even with the floppy sunhat on to protect her fair skin.

Eventually, they reached the top of the hill and both of them collapsed in a heap, breathing heavily. Then, for no reason whatsoever, Patrick started laughing and Teresa soon joined in. When they calmed down, he rested a hand on her cheek and stared deeply into her eyes. Last year, he knew that she would have shied away from such a gesture, but this time she held his gaze. In fact she even rested her own palm on top of his hand.

Patrick took a deep breath and slowly leaned in.

He was more than relieved when Teresa responded immediately to his kiss.

**TBC...**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **So, I've somehow managed to write part three already. It's probably a good thing considering the fact that I need to get this done before the end of April, hah. It still feels horribly out of my comfort zone, but I hope people are enjoying it nevertheless.

Thank you to: Country2776, LAurore, giggleplex1, arpiny, Brown Eyes Parker, SharpestSatire, xanderseye, TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme, idonthaveaname, matsu23, Jisbon4ever, angierox2lov and Miss Peg for reviewing part two. It honestly means the world to me. I know some of you have asked some questions about the previous part; I'm hoping to provide the answers in the story itself.

I'm not 100% sure when part four will be up, but as I said before: reviews feed the plot bunnies. Honestly, it's like bananas to them. (Rabbits love bananas. My girls go nuts for them, seriously.)

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Three<strong>

_17__th__ October 2012_

"Where have you been?" Lisbon asked as Jane sauntered back into her office in the early evening.

"I've been working, honest," he immediately defended himself, his voice laced with mock-hurt.

Lisbon smirked. She knew where he'd been really. After all, she had been in receipt of a telephone call from a much harried Wayne Rigsby merely a short while earlier. She already knew about the ruckus he'd caused at the bar where Zachary De Souza had enjoyed his last drink a couple of hours before his death. She'd already smoothed down the ruffled feathers of the bar owner and vowed that Patrick Jane wouldn't be allowed anywhere near the vicinity of his business again, provided of course, that the man and his employees weren't responsible for De Souza's death.

That was an easy decision for her to make. Just because she had been left alone in her office since her lunch with Jane, it didn't mean she had been sitting idle, either. She had been chasing up De Souza's links through work and leisure, working out his daily routine and the like from the information fed at her from her team. In the time they had spent out doing fieldwork, she had also come across some fairly useful discoveries herself. Unfortunately, time was pressing on and she knew that chasing them up would have to be left until morning.

Jane, however, took the seat opposite her. She immediately decided that the moment he was done talking to her, that she would go home. If nothing else, she deserved a relatively early night, especially after a day like today. Seeing Zachary, dead, was slowly but surely beginning to make her face some memories which she really didn't want to face. Lisbon pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to fend off the impending headache. She couldn't think of her mother's death, not while at work. Most of the time, she was able to convince herself that it was all in the past, that it was ancient history. However, a few select moments always chose to remind her that no child can ever really recover from losing their parents so young.

"So…" she started.

"You want to know if I found out anything interesting?" he enquired.

"Well, of course," she muttered irritably. "I do have a home to get to, you know."

"What and a can of tinned soup?"

She scowled in response. What did it matter if she only had soup planned for her dinner tonight? Some days, she just didn't feel like cooking. It wasn't as if she relied upon the easy options every single time.

"That's beside the point, Jane," she answered back through gritted teeth. "Well?"

"It was a dead end," he admitted and her smile broadened. "Except..."

"Except?" Lisbon echoed.

"He met up with his fitness instructor, Mary Whittaker, there last night."

"Who also happened to be his first girlfriend," Lisbon supplied, almost proudly.

"Ye- wait, what?"

She could barely contain her delight at the fact that she had taken Jane off guard. Those moments were always few and far between, so Lisbon treasured each and every one of them. In a way, she hoped that they provided him with the necessary reminder that she was good at his job and his assistance was merely beneficial to the unit, not essential. He pouted, somehow looking incredibly cute and reminding her of a teenager at the same time. Lisbon sighed; she really shouldn't be thinking of Patrick Jane like that. It was inappropriate, for a start. Not to mention...

"How do you know that?" he asked, interrupting her chain of thought.

"Oh please, she went to high school with my brother and the vic. Of _course_ I knew her."

"Isn't it funny how you all moved out here?" Jane stated noncommittally.

"Mm," Lisbon answered incoherently, taking a sip of her bottled water.

"Care to elaborate?"

"Not particularly," she answered back stiffly.

Of course, Lisbon knew exactly why she had moved to California. She'd desperately needed to escape all the bitter memories that Chicago had provided her with day in, day out for far too many years. That and she needed to finally step out on her own, live her own life instead of having her brothers clinging hold of her for dear life. Tommy, however, being the youngest had promptly followed her, much to Lisbon's irritation. But still, it had more or less worked.

Except for days like today, naturally. Those were the ones that always came around to bite her on the ass. She glared at Jane and that twinkle in his eye suddenly seemed all too familiar.

"At least the weather's nicer. Though I always did like Chicago in the summer," Jane stated lightly.

Lisbon's frown deepened. She wasn't quite sure, but she had a feeling he was skirting around the exact same issue that she had been trying to avoid too. Why the hell had she decided to tell Jane that the last time she'd seen Zachary De Souza alive had been at the carnival? Especially so, given the fact she knew Jane's background better than she ever cared to admit. Not only that, but it had been an exaggeration. She had seen Zachary after that visit; it was just the last time she had spent an extended period of time with her. That was irrelevant to her problem with Jane, however. Now, she was beginning to wonder if it was for the best that she just opened up about it all. Ripped it off like a band-aid and got through the pain quicker.

The only problem was, she wasn't sure if she had the confidence for that.

"Mhm," she mumbled, vaguely agreeing. "I always enjoyed the yearly carnival, until…"

"Until?" Jane queried, though they both knew he knew the answer.

"Until the day my mom died," she answered with a sigh.

Then, she promptly stood, grabbed her bag, jacket and one of the files off of her desk. Suddenly, she wasn't sure whether or not she wanted to run for the hills or have the ground swallow her whole. Realistically, either was an ideal solution, though running was probably easier. Lisbon cursed at herself; she knew that she seemed frazzled in front of Jane, and she always hated that, especially considering she'd literally just scored a (minor) win from him and was undoing all of her good work. Still, all she needed to do was get somewhere and think before this situation all got horribly out of hand.

"I've gotta go," she said quickly, not even bothering to make up an excuse. "We'll question Whittaker tomorrow morning. I'll meet you here at seven-thirty."

xxx

_15__th__ July 1986_

Angela hadn't been particularly impressed by Patrick's plan to allow Teresa to get closer to the animals, but he didn't care. It meant that he got to spend more time with her than usual and that was the main thing as far as he was concerned. When he'd suggested it, she had practically jumped at the chance, her green eyes sparkling with sheer delight. Of course, he knew she was going to have to sneak out at the crack of dawn and that it was going to take some effort for her to get there, but she had believed it was worth it. And that alone had made his spirit lift.

When he saw her pedaling away, with a look of intense concentration on her features, Patrick couldn't help but crack a grin. As soon as she caught sight of him, she reciprocated the smile and dumped her bicycle down to run the rest of the distance. Patrick grunted slightly as she practically threw herself at him, but still managed to pick her up and spin her around. After he stopped moving, he placed a chaste kiss on her lips before interlocking his fingers with hers.

"Do you want to see the elephants first?" he asked and she nodded enthusiastically. "C'mon, they're this way."

Pete was with the elephants, but the moment he saw Patrick approach with Teresa, he frowned before masking it with a warm smile. Teresa was apprehensive at first, but it wasn't long until she was happily passing fruit over to the gentle giants. Patrick wasn't entirely happy with the look of condemnation on Pete's face, but he knew exactly why the old man felt that way. It was because he had invited one of the general public – a mark – behind closed doors. They weren't meant to see things like this. However, the look of joy on Teresa's face as Nellie curled up her trunk and popped the fruits and greens into her mouth made it worth it as far as he was concerned.

That was, until, the rumbling of a car engine broke into his reverie. Patrick turned around to see a mass of angry carnie folk shouting at the intruder. The intruder looked all too familiar, much to his horror. Teresa's father stormed out of the car, brushing off Angela and Patrick's own father as he strode towards his daughter. Teresa, naturally, was the last to realize, having been so engrossed in the animals before her. When she turned around, her face immediately dropped and she literally shrank back in fear. Patrick suspected that she had never seen her father so angry and that was worrying even for him. Boldly, he stepped in between the two of them. There was something about the look in the man's eyes that gave him the incorrigible urge to protect her.

"Get out of the way, boy," the man snarled, flecks of spittle landing in Patrick's face.

"No."

"Daniel," Teresa whispered before growing louder. "Daniel, it's okay. I can handle it."

Patrick turned to face her and stared deeply into her eyes. A fierce confidence shined out of them and that relieved him somewhat.

"You sure?" he asked, though he knew the answer already.

She nodded defiantly, clearly determined not to show weakness in front of her father or Patrick. Nervously, he stepped aside and that was when the worst happened.

As soon as he'd moved away, Teresa's father had closed the gap between them. It only served to highlight the sheer difference in height and bodyweight between the two; the girl had clearly taken after her mother in both of those aspects. However, she stood her ground and simply waited for her father's next move. Patrick watched every action carefully. As the man raised his hand, it was almost as if everything had slowed down. Patrick could witness with perfect clarity the exact moment that his hand made contact with his daughter's face. Even her recoil appeared to occur in slow motion, along with the look of hurt and fear suddenly blossoming in her eyes. She turned to face her father with a bitter glare, holding her right hand against her sore, reddened cheek.

"That's what you get for – what? Running away to join the circus? With him?" Mr. Lisbon threw Jane a dirty look.

"She wasn't-"

"I-"

"I don't want to hear it!" he thundered, cutting them both off. "It doesn't matter."

Then, he grabbed her roughly by the upper arm and started dragging her away from the elephant enclosure and back towards his car. If he noticed the dirty looks and muttered phrases of disgust from the crowd of carnival folk, he didn't show it. Patrick automatically followed and his heart broke when he saw the stricken look she threw straight back at him. When the girl's father practically pinned her against the car, holding on tightly to her shoulders, he rushed to try and throw him off, somehow. However, for some reason he paused at the very last second. There had to be some explanation for why the man was flying off the handle in the way he was.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you've caused?" he growled.

"Dad, I'm-"

"It's too late. We need to get to the hospital."

"Hospital?" she questioned, sounding as bemused as Patrick felt.

"It's your mother. She was," the man's voice cracked as the stress of the morning got to him. "She was involved in a car crash. It was while she was looking for _you_."

As horrible as the moment when he'd watched the father dish out a dose of corporal punishment, this was a thousand times worse. He could have sworn that he literally saw the moment when Teresa's heart broke and he rushed up to try and comfort her. Angrily, she pushed him aside and fled to the passenger side of the vehicle. Patrick backed away slowly, his eyes never leaving her. Quietly, she mouthed 'I'm sorry' before closing her eyes and beginning to pray. He watched, rapt, as her hand closed around the cross pendant dangling around her necklace. She'd told him, yesterday, that it had been a gift from her mother for her fourteenth birthday, which had just gone by.

Now, it seemed to hold so much more significance.

His eyes remained fixed on the car as she was whisked away to what he could only hope was good news. Patrick didn't even notice Angela touch him gently, offering the wordless support he'd come to expect of her. All he could think about how it was partially his fault that the Lisbon family – and Teresa in particular – was going through this heartache.

After all, her father had essentially blamed her for her mother's accident. Words like that never left a person. Patrick knew that better than most.

**TBC…**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **So, I don't think I have much more to write of this piece. Maybe one to two more chapters and an epilogue? I think that'll be it, anyway. This was never going to be that long, as it is my entry for the **Paint It Red** April monthly challenge and as we're approaching halfway through the month, I'm beginning to feel the deadline looming.

Thank you to: BekaForEva, TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme, LAurore, Miss Peg, Country2776, idonthaveaname, xJadeWEAPONx, Brown Eyes Parker, SharpestSatire, ararablue, CsimiamiNcisMentalistFangirl, Jisbon4ever, lolly2222 and ClaMiAl for reviewing part three. Also to everyone who has +alerted and favourited this. It means the world to me - and I (and the plot bunnies) would love to know what you think of the latest part.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Four <strong>

_18__th__ October 2012_

She had slept terribly the night beforehand; unsettling dreams about Jane and her past led to her feeling more drained than rejuvenated by the time she woke up. For years, Lisbon had tried to forget about the carnivals she'd attended as a child, but ever since meeting Patrick Jane just over nine years ago, they had managed to start taunting her again. She'd been more at peace with herself, back then, which was hardly surprising given how things turned out. Whenever the carnival came to town, it was when she was at her happiest. And that was all because of one boy. But it was also because she had snuck out to see him, that her mother had been killed. If she had just told them where she was going (not that her father would ever have agreed to it), or even just rejected his invitation, then her mom wouldn't have had cause to be on the roads at that time of day. She wouldn't have been killed by that damn drunk driver. Those bitter words that her father had spat out on more than one occasion had never left her. Things like that always made the good times they had once shared as a family harder to remember, too.

But Lisbon had been young and impetuous. She had also fallen horribly in love with Daniel Jane, despite only seeing him so briefly once a year.

You never forgot your first love.

Which was why, when Patrick Jane became her consultant, all these bittersweet memories had resurfaced.

She remembered how she used to beg to see Patrick Jane's shows, but her mother had always refused. 'Psychics don't exist, sweetie,' she always said, in a slightly condescending tone that Lisbon had been too young to notice at the time. However, unlike both of her parents, Lisbon had always kept an open mind, if only because of Daniel. He'd never introduced her to his twin brother, but it had never particularly bothered her at the time. Meeting others simply served as a distraction from spending time with Daniel. Except for the animals, of course. Lisbon had always had a soft spot for them.

When she had finally met Patrick Jane, the 'boy wonder' as he had once been called, she had been startled by his claims that psychics didn't exist. It seemed that her parents had been right; that it was a sham. And she had always thought the Jane twins had been scrupulously honest with her, if not other people. It was then that she had started to question Jane's relationship with his brother. He never brought him up, so she didn't bother to do so either. Besides, it seemed easier just to ignore that ever so slight connection in the past.

However, dealing with Zachary De Souza's case had made things worse. Last night, the dreams had been all the more vivid. Young Zachary had been there, teasing her about kissing the psychic boy, in that cheeky little voice that only a seven year old could manage. She kept trying to correct him, telling him no, it had been the psychic boy's brother instead. It had been Daniel, not Patrick,_ never_ Patrick. The psychic barely left the side of their father, so how could she have kissed him when she was younger? And besides, she only tolerated Jane because he closed cases. She liked him well enough, but he was only a coworker. But seven year old Zachary was having none of it and continued taunting her, despite the fact she had quite obviously been a grown woman, even in the dream. In the end, Lisbon had woken feeling thoroughly confused.

Still, he posed a very important question to her, one that lingered on for hours afterwards. What if…?

She shook her head violently as she slammed the door to her car shut. There was no point in thinking like that. Quickly, Lisbon scoured the parking lot for an all too familiar classic blue car. It wasn't there. Muttering incoherently under her breath, Lisbon glanced at her watch to see that she was already five minutes late, which meant that Jane was running even later than she was. When she saw him pull in, she was relieved. Sometimes, she had to wonder if his car was still roadworthy, after all. There was a time when she just about trusted the thing, but now, as far as she was concerned, it was only worthy of the scrapheap.

As Jane approached, there was an all too familiar twinkle in his eye. Somebody looked like he was in a good mood. Well, at least one of them was, she considered. When he had first been assigned to her unit, she hadn't been too pleased, but now, she welcomed him not only as a part of the team (he closed cases was her mantra), but as a… friend. However, he'd always had that sense of overfamiliarity with her, even right at the beginning when she tried to keep him at arm's length. Even back then, he gave her cause to wonder. Firstly, because though she had heard a fair bit about him from her brother, he had never met her. And he was, after all, strikingly similar to Daniel. Sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder if they really were one and the same.

Especially now and _especially_ after those dreams last night. Then again, they were enough to unsettle anybody.

Despite that, she tried to dismiss it as her overactive imagination. Patrick Jane understood her so quickly was because of his astonishing abilities and because she was startlingly easy to read. And he must have talked to his brother about her, of course. She'd seen first-hand just how quickly information was passed through the carnival people. Daniel wouldn't have been able to keep it all a secret, however hard he'd tried.

"You're late," she said critically.

"Only by ten minutes," he protested.

"Whatever."

"Someone isn't in a good mood today."

"I just want this over with."

"I understand," he said lightly and gently reached out to touch her. Automatically, Lisbon pulled her arm back before he even had a chance. "How did your brother take the news?"

A select number of details had been released to the press shortly after Lisbon had left work last night, in the hope that some witnesses may come forward. However, all it had resulted in thus far was a tearful conversation with Thomas Lisbon. As well as being bitterly upset, he was furious with his sister for not having informed him imminently, despite her having no cause to do so yet. She had spent half her evening trying to calm him down and promising that she had meant to tell him as soon as she had clearance to do so. It was just a case of him catching the press announcement minutes before she was going to call him with the bad news.

"Badly," she admitted. "They were planning to meet up for the first time in a decade next week."

"Ah."

"Yeah," she said, acknowledging just how much emotion he could get into such a simple word. "And what about your brother? Has he found out yet? How is _Daniel_ these days?"

xxx

_2__nd__ July 1987_

His father had tried to make him dispose of Teresa's bicycle, but Patrick had stubbornly kept hold of it. Almost a year might have passed since he'd seen her last, but he desperately wanted to return it to its owner. In truth, he desperately wanted to see her again, anyway. He'd be taunted by memories of the last time he'd seen her, just shy of one year previously.

He hated the fact that the last time he'd seen her, she had been so devastated.

And it was partially his fault.

Patrick still didn't know if Teresa's mom was okay, if she had survived even. All he knew was that she'd been in the accident that her father had told Teresa about in the most brutal of ways. The carnival had cleared out less than forty-eight hours after the fact and he hadn't had enough time to pick up on the local news, to find out either way. It didn't help that his father had worked his knuckles to the proverbial grindstone during the brief time they'd remained in Chicago, either. He was beginning to curse the fact he'd never gotten around to asking her for her address, her telephone number even. Just because he was constantly on the move and sometimes unable to be contacted, it didn't mean that she was. Patrick was sure she would have appreciated a postcard or two during their time apart.

Chicago had fallen earlier in the schedule than usual, but Patrick had initially been fairly certain that the Lisbon family would turn up, sooner or later. They never liked to miss the carnival and he couldn't actually remember a time when they hadn't attended. However, it was already the penultimate day and he hadn't seen hide nor hair of them. Patrick had checked with Angela frequently, much to her irritation, but she also confirmed what he suspected: they hadn't visited yet. That worried him; the family was utterly predictable. They never left it this late for their yearly visit. Sometimes, they even came a couple of times during one stint, which was pretty unusual for any family.

In a desperate whim, Patrick took off and actually sought her out for himself. If she wasn't going to come to him, then he was going to find her. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, but he didn't care. He just couldn't bear the thought of coming to Chicago without seeing her and those green eyes again, especially as it was likely that this was going to be his last visit to the city. Patrick hadn't told his father (for he was the problem), but he and Angela were planning to leave together as soon as feasibly possible. The only reason they had held out until now was because he insisted on seeing Teresa. He was desperate to find out if there was some way of orchestrating her into his plans. The Windy City, after all, was as good a place as any to start afresh.

Naturally, it made him realize just how little he actually knew about Teresa. Sure, he knew how her mind worked, what made her happy, how she felt about him and things like that, but it didn't mean he knew core facts. Like where she lived, where she went to school, where other members of her family lived, what her hobbies were even. Instead of things that would help him track her down, he knew about the finer details that made her _herself_. After what felt like hours of aimlessly wandering, he returned back to the carnival, only to be greeted by a harried Angela. Patrick didn't even have time to ask his important question: _has Teresa and her family visited the carnival today?_ Instead, she rushed him off for an audience with his father.

His particularly furious father, that was.

Patrick knew that he was the only blood-family that Alex Jane felt he could rely on (or at least, manipulate.) His mom had died in a freak accident when he was barely a month old and thus, Patrick couldn't even remember her. The carnival was home and that was the end of the matter. Still, he knew it would feel good to finally be out of it, away from the controlling hands of his dad.

And away from the only family (related or otherwise) that he knew. But there was a downside to everything. He kept reminding himself of the positives about leaving: the ones that Angela had instilled in him over the years.

"You're late," his father snarled the moment he walked into the trailer. "Where have you been, boy?"

"Out," Patrick answered with a noncommittal shrug.

He didn't need to know; it was none of his business. And besides, he was eighteen years old – a man now – he didn't need babysitting twenty-four seven.

"You missed an appointment," Alex continued to rage, pacing as he did. "It could have been the big one; this one would have made us rich! It would have-"

He stopped and began to raise a hand to Patrick. However, he took a step back and glared at his father. There was no way he was going to let his dad lay another finger on him. This was the exact reason why he was leaving the carnival. He was sick and tired of pretending to be a child psychic, of being years younger than he actually was. Sick of fleecing innocent, _desperate_ people out of their money, of lying for a living. Fed up of his father controlling all of his earnings and taking more than his fair share, then losing it all on gambling.

He needed to be the one in control of his own life.

"No," he snapped back and grabbed his hold-all from the side of the van. He'd kept it packed, just in case he ever needed to leave quickly. "I'm sick of this. I'm leaving. Angela's coming with me."

Patrick stormed out of the trailer, to where Angela was waiting with her bags. She'd obviously suspected that their conversation was going to end like this and prepared accordingly. With a nod, he took her hand and blindingly ignored his father's rants and raves and attempts to call him back.

Chicago it was, then.

He broke out into a grin.

This meant he now had all the time in the world to find Teresa Lisbon.

**TBC…**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **So, I can now say I only have one chapter and an epilogue to write of this little thing for definite. I wasn't sure after the last chapter, but hey. I'm fairly happy for where this fic has gone so far... hopefully I can do a half-decent ending.

Thank you to: TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme, matsu23, Eldanar, Brown Eyes Parker, RavenClaw01, Jisbon4ever and Miss Peg for reviewing part four. The plot bunnies definitely need your reviews to get through the final two updates now. Especially with the self-imposed deadline I've just given myself...

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Five<strong>

_18__th__ October 2012_

"Lisbon," Jane started softly. "I hate to break it to you, but…"

She already knew where this was going based purely on the tone of his voice. Her heart sank slightly in response. It wasn't that she was disappointed, per se, it was more complicated than that. Really, Lisbon wanted some more time to get her head around the situation, rather than having it out with Jane right now. Still, she knew that it was for the best that they were finally being open with one another after all of these years. It didn't make it any easier, however.

"No, don't tell me," she interrupted before she even had a chance to stop herself. "He never existed, did he? It was you all along."

"When did you work it out?" Jane asked.

Lisbon smirked; at least he had the decency to appear at least mildly surprised to discover she had realized for herself. At the same time, she had to wonder why he had been so quick, so willing to give up the façade so easily. It was unlike Jane; he normally held his cards close to his chest and hated it when people discovered he'd made a mistake. Maybe, she surmised, he was just as sick and tired of playing games as she was?

"What does it matter?" she asked with a noncommittal shrug.

"Not long ago then," he answered, sounding a little too smug. "Honestly, woman, it's no wonder you have little more than your career in your life right now."

"And you should be very grateful that I'm driving because otherwise, I don't know whether I'd punch you or…"

"Or?"

"Never you mind," she answered back and could practically feel her cheeks burning.

"Oh I think I should mind given the fact that it's me you'd have been doing it to," Jane said, still grinning. "You're blushing, my dear."

"Shut up, Jane," Lisbon snapped back reflexively.

"As you wish."

In an instant, Lisbon regretted her words. Of all the occasions for Jane to take her literally, he'd had to choose this one, didn't he? This was the one time when they really needed to talk. Angrily, she gripped hold of the steering wheel more tightly, until the whites of her knuckles were showing. It was bad driving technique, but she didn't care. She had to get her frustrations out of her system somehow and besides, she had to get herself back into a work-ready state as soon as feasibly possible. Luckily for them, Mary Whittaker didn't live all that far from the CBI headquarters. It was always easier whenever they didn't have some long distance traveling to factor in.

And she would have loathed a long journey, with the air so thick that it could be cut with a knife, between them.

The tension was practically palpable and that was what worried her. Where the hell did they go from this? These admissions changed everything. After all, she had been near-enough in love with Patrick Jane once upon a time. And, though she tried to hide it as best she could, she had fallen in love with him all over again.

Half the reason she had prevented herself from mentioning it, from pursuing it even was because she had always thought at the back of her mind, _'what would Daniel think?'_

(The other issues mostly revolved around trust and Red John. Though this latest revelation did nothing to eradicate them – if anything, it exacerbated the situation – it still changed things, as far as she was concerned.)

When they pulled up in front of the Whittaker residence, Lisbon was frankly, relieved for the distraction. At least it gave her something else to focus on instead of the questions that had been incessantly running through her mind. As she climbed out of the car, she shot Jane a dirty look, almost blaming him for making the whole situation so horribly uncomfortable. She stretched slightly, relieving the tension in her back muscles before ambling up to the front door. It took Jane a matter of seconds to fall into step beside her. Lisbon shot him a furtive glance before she rapped firmly on the door. Barely thirty seconds later, a young woman answered the door, the fear knotted across her forehead.

"I'm-"

"Thank God you're here," she muttered, her hands trembling. "They're through here."

Lisbon cocked her head quizzically, but Jane only shrugged his shoulders in response. In a way, she was almost pleased that he seemed to be as clueless as she was. She hadn't even needed to introduce herself, never mind flash her badge to indicate her position in law enforcement. Resting a hand on her gun holster, she followed the young girl through to the kitchen.

"Mom's just outside. I have no idea what happened, just Uncle David turned up and she just flipped out, you know?"

"We know," Jane confirmed and he placed a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder. "Don't worry, Agent Lisbon is the best cop I know; she'll be able to calm them down."

"You sure?" she asked.

"Absolutely positive," he assured her.

In response, Lisbon tightened her grip on her gun and tried to ignore the jolt of pleasure running through her system thanks to Jane's compliment. She still had a job to do, even if Jane didn't. And besides, at least he seemed somewhat distracted by Whittaker's daughter; that would keep him out of trouble while she walked headfirst into a risky situation. Taking a deep breath, she headed out into the yard, hoping it wasn't as bad as the daughter made it out to be.

The woman had a gun; she wasn't threatening her elder brother. Instead, she was pointing it at her own head, as he was trying desperately to calm the situation down. Though she didn't draw her own weapon, Lisbon didn't slacken her grip either. She needed to make sure that she could defend herself at only a moment's notice.

As it was, she didn't need to. It didn't take her long, but somehow she managed to talk the woman out of taking her own life and leaving her child motherless. However, that didn't change the fact she was admitting to murder in between racking sobs. Lisbon knew that didn't necessarily make her guilty; they needed more than just a confession to solidify the case. And besides, with the state that Mary Whittaker was in, it was hardly reliable. Still, she cuffed the woman with the intention of interrogating her further back at the CBI headquarters.

"Good job, Lisbon," Jane said with a smirk as she approached.

"Shut up, Jane," she retorted.

"Twice in one day?" he quipped back almost instantaneously. "My dear, I think you need to work on your repertoire."

"Are you done insulting me or can we go now?"

"Let's go," he agreed, leaving the uncle to pick up the pieces.

xxx

_23__rd__ January 1988_

"Patrick."

He ignored Angela; he was too busy scribbling desperately in his diary. Since leaving the carnival circuit, his sleep pattern had deteriorated. Patrick had a vague idea of why; it was because he was so fixated on finding one Teresa Lisbon. Angela was worried about him, naturally and told him so ten times a day, or more. Instead, to try and get rid of his frustrations at the lack of progress, he wrote it all down. How he felt about her, what he would do if he saw her again and how much it was breaking his heart not seeing her.

It had been a year and a half since he'd seen her last and he still couldn't get her out of his mind. How was he going to cope if he never managed to reunite with her again?

Realistically, he knew he was being foolish. That he had to learn to let go somehow. However, as far as he was concerned, she'd been a part of his life for so long now, that it just wasn't as easy as that. Despite all of the other beautiful girls he'd met, Angela included, none of them had had the same spark that Teresa had had. And that was why he was so completely and utterly desperate to trace her down.

There was another problem too. He was living in such close quarters with Angela – their home was little more than a studio apartment. They only kept the roof over their heads thanks to Angela doing odd jobs such as waitressing and him, unfortunately, having been unable to shake off the title of psychic. The only benefit was that he had been able to become pickier over which jobs he actually chose. However, living with Angela in itself was fine; the fact she was clearly developing feelings for him was not.

He'd always liked Angela Ruskin; he would have gone mad without her. She'd kept him sane, when his father had been driving him into the ground physically, emotionally and financially. She was his confidant and he trusted her with his life. However, he was yet to develop anything more than just a strong sense of loyalty and friendship towards her. Patrick hated the fact that this barrier was forming between the two of them, and yet, he felt as though his hands were tied.

"Patrick!" she repeated urgently.

"Yes, Angela?"

"I had an interesting visitor in the bar tonight."

"Who?" he practically demanded, standing up as he did so. "Not Teresa?"

Patrick knew it was a stupid suggestion the moment the words tripped out of his mouth. Teresa wasn't old enough to be going to bars on her own; she was only fifteen. However, that didn't mean it couldn't have been her family; one of her parents maybe, on a night out. When Angela shook her head, grinning, his heart sank a little, in spite of realizing that she couldn't have spotted her. She was the reason they'd settled down in Chicago, after all. And besides, finding her seemed like an impossible task, when really, it shouldn't have been.

If anything, he was beginning to find it to be an insult to his abilities. When it came to people, he knew what he was doing and yet, it felt like she was outfoxing him at every turn.

"I swear you lose brain cells when you think of that _girl_."

"That's not funny," he answered back, well aware of the dig she'd made about Teresa's age.

"I think it is," she answered back with a smirk before handing him over a business card.

Slowly, he turned it over and read the name of the individual on it. Half of him was expecting to see a link to the person he'd spent a good six months looking for. Instead, all he saw was the name of some unknown man, stating that he was a manager and talent spotter.

"Why do I need a manager?"

"It seems you're not the only person on the lookout for someone," Angela answered dryly, flopping on the couch. "Are you sick of this place?"

He nodded. What else was he meant to say?

"Well then… he could make you huge."

"I thought I left the carnival to _stop_ pretending to be a psychic?"

Angela shrugged and took a sip of her bottled water. Patrick instead, continued staring at the card and trying to come to terms with the ramifications. Management would mean bigger events, more money perhaps. They'd be able to live more comfortably and it would stop the arguments about cash, at the very least. However, he liked being the one in control of his own life, for a change. This would just be selling his soul to another devil, instead of his father. But even he had to admit that he was struggling to earn his keep without the support of somebody else.

And Angela had said that this man hadn't just spotted him, but had spent some time looking for him. That meant he could probably thrash out a decent deal with the man. They could come to agreement that didn't compromise his new-found morality, since leaving the carnival recently.

"What else can you do?"

"I don't know. Become a private investigator?" he said, ignoring the slight insult she'd thrown his way yet again.

"Yeah, and look at what a good job you're doing finding Teresa," she snapped back hotly. "Damn it, Patrick, you need to stop living in the past!"

The words jolted through him like a shock to the system. He glanced down at the notepad he'd spent literally months writing in. It contained everywhere he'd looked, everything he'd done and it had all come to no avail. Looking for Teresa was like looking for a needle in a haystack and probably, just as frustrating. Though he was so desperate to see her again, especially after what had happened last time, he really was getting nowhere.

Leaving behind something which was, quite frankly, turning into an obsession could only be a good thing. And even if he did put this all in his past, it didn't mean he was just going to forget about her. His memory palace was rock solid; nothing could destroy his thoughts and feelings of them. If he took Angela's advice, then he was just choosing to compartmentalize them so he could move on and be more constructive.

He grinned and sat beside Angela. Gently, he place one hand to his cheek and leant in for a kiss. It didn't take long for her to realize what was happening and she reciprocated eagerly. Patrick could practically tell that she had been waiting for an incredibly long time for something to happen between the two of them.

And for the first time, his heart skipped a beat.

It wasn't quite love, not yet, but he knew that one day, Angela wouldn't be second best.

**TBC…**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **So, all I have left to do is the epilogue. I think that's pretty good going, in terms of writing pace. However, I'm having a couple of days off because I'm off down to London, to see _Steps_. Very much looking forward to revisiting my childhood.

Thank you to: LAurore, TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme, CsimiamiNcisMentalistFangirl, ClaMiAl, Eldanar, Brown Eyes Parker, Ebony10, fseventh, Country2776, millabr, SharpestSatire, matsu23 and Miss Peg for reviewing part five.

Part six deviates slightly from the previous structure. I hope you don't mind, and as always, I'd love to know what you think.

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Six<strong>

_18__th__ October 2012_

"Is that the case closed, then?" Jane asked as he caught Lisbon up in the corridor.

Years of working with Jane had led to her being used to him suddenly appearing out of nowhere. He'd deemed De Souza's case 'boring' once they'd brought in Whittaker and promptly decided to position himself on his battered, leather couch. Lisbon, on the other hand, was perfectly content with it being an easy win, for a change. Things didn't normally fall on their laps quite so easily, but quite frankly, as far as she was concerned, they deserved a simple one like this every so often. Theoretically, it meant less hassle for her and it definitely meant that a certain consultant didn't have the chance to carry out any errant stunts. This case was one she'd decided from the outset that she'd wanted to be quick and simple. She'd wanted to brush it under the carpet and get back to normal as soon as feasibly possible.

Unfortunately thanks to Jane's admission, she knew that that was going to be far easier said than done.

At least she'd proved herself just as capable as he was. After all, they'd both come to the conclusion that Mary Whittaker was involved somehow at the exact same time. It was just a case that neither of them had anticipated her admitting so freely. Even then, she knew the case was pretty much cast-iron. Especially as Rigsby and Cho had picked up the murder weapon– a length of lead piping - from Whittaker's office and unsurprisingly, it had her fingerprints all over it.

"Now is usually the moment when you tell me we've got the wrong person," she stated lightly.

"Not this time, my dear."

Lisbon's frown deepened at his term of endearment. Normally, it didn't bother her; if anything, she'd grown so accustomed to them that she simply ignored it. However, now it rankled. Suddenly, it felt like they had a significant history they shared – even more so than they had previously done so. All she could think of were the repercussions that he, Patrick Jane, had had on her life and the lies they'd been telling one another for the past nine years. It just made everything seem so _uncomfortable._

"I'm afraid I've got a terribly boring meeting with Wainwright to attend," Lisbon stated stiffly, indicating to the file clasped in her hands. "So…"

"So?"

"Why don't you go make yourself a cup of tea, dig out your Sudoku book and relax on your couch again?"

"Are you feeling alright, Lisbon?" he enquired, grinning from ear to ear. "You're practically encouraging me to avoid work."

Lisbon shrugged. "What's the point in telling you to do paperwork? You never do it, anyway."

"Not even trying reverse psychology, then?"

"You're the master, you figure it out."

"I already have," he quipped back.

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really," he confirmed.

She sighed. More games; she should have expected this. After all, it was Jane. He was so used to building up barriers, that it was hardly surprising that he had done the same, even after their not-conversation they'd share earlier. Still, she genuinely did have a brief meeting scheduled with Wainwright. Lisbon had a murderer in custody and the sooner they could pass her on, the better. There was no cause to leave Whittaker waiting in their holding cells when she could be moved along quite easily.

"And what might your theory be, then."

"You're avoiding me. Or at least, avoiding a certain subject."

Lisbon shook her head and quickly strode into Wainwright's office. She was relieved that Jane didn't bother to follow her inside. Then again, he had no cause to waste precious tea-drinking time on somebody like Luther Wainwright, whereas she had to deal with their supervisory agent on a regular basis. Besides, she still needed time to evaluate her relationship with Jane, whatever the hell it was. Up until now, she'd had the very welcome distraction of work.

The meeting went smoothly and instead of returning straight to the office, Lisbon immediately headed out of the building and towards Marie's. If she didn't deserve a bear claw now, she didn't know when she'd deserve one. Besides, it gave her a chance to be out in the open and to finally start reassessing virtually everything she'd thought she'd known about Patrick Jane.

As a child, he'd lied to her. He'd forged a false identity so she couldn't judge him for playing the fake psychic. When he was older, he'd carried on with it, despite the fact he'd been so judgmental about his pretend brother's career when they were still kids. She couldn't doubt for a second that he hadn't recognized her the moment they'd been reunited and yet, he'd never brought up how they'd really met, never mentioned the past or their shared history. He hadn't even talked about Daniel in attempt to throw her off the scent. Angela's brother, Danny, hadn't even touched upon the subject. The similarity between Angela's brother's name and the name Jane had taken all that time ago stung. She felt like she should have _known_ from that alone.

And yet, she had remained painfully oblivious. How, why? Had she really had an inkling that Daniel had never existed, and if so, how long for? Jane had always been private about his past, but then again, even he dropped the proverbial ball on occasion. She was angry; she knew that at the very least. But it wasn't directed at Jane entirely, because she was aware that it was partially her fault as well. And even then, the anger was tempered somehow. It was probably because their issues had been going on for so long that she was growing too tired to burn with the same red hot fury that she had whenever Jane made work especially difficult. If she'd only dared, she could have cleared the air between them years ago, then maybe she wouldn't have felt like a fish out of water. But Jane was clearly passionately in love with his wife and she'd never seen the right opportunity to bring it up. Until now, of course, except now, she was beginning to feel like she had left it too long.

She was just a few steps away from Marie's when her cell phone rang out, indicating that she'd received a text message. With a sigh, she dug it out and wasn't entirely surprised to see it was from a certain Patrick Jane. Lisbon rolled her eyes and instead of reading, just pocketed the phone instead. She'd deal with him later. After she'd had her snack and a decent cup of coffee and therefore, had more energy to deal with him.

When she walked into the establishment, the first thing she noticed was Jane. He was sitting down at her usual table, with two drinks and two pastries in front of him. She didn't even need to get any closer to know that Jane had probably gotten her order correct to the finest detail. It was actions like this which made her half-heartedly believe that there was more to his skills than acute ability to read body language and make accurate predictions. If nothing else, she already knew that he had an uncanny ability to read her like an open book and that was what frustrated her the most, especially now.

She floundered for a second, half-tempted to just turn on her heels and return to work. That was, until his voice rang out, loud and clear.

"We need to talk."

Lisbon promptly sat down opposite him. She didn't accept the coffee, despite how much she felt like she needed one. Instead, she placed her hands on her lap and just stared at him.

"Then let's talk."

xxx

_27__th__ April 1989_

He was on tour in California. The Golden State was already blisteringly hot, but Patrick liked the change of weather, the change of scenery. And to make things even better, he still had Angela by his side. She had been a lot happier ever since they'd left Illinois and probably, justifiably so.

After all, he'd been thinking about Teresa less and less these days.

Sometimes, his heart still ached for the feisty brunette. He knew she was technically still a child, but she had always had a wise head on young shoulders. There were times when he couldn't help but wonder what his life would have been like, if he'd been able to find her. Whether or not he'd have been happier, having Teresa as an important part of his life. That was if she would have even wanted him, despite the years of deception. Still, he kept hold of his old diaries and on rare occasions, added to them. After all, it just felt like the right thing to do.

But then, he wouldn't have Angela. And he would never have taken his manager – Joshua Redding's – advice to relocate. Despite himself, he was beginning to enjoy working as a fake psychic, not that his clientele knew that he was only selling them false hope and simply joining the dots. He wasn't making a real difference to their lives – he knew it wasn't an honorable career which saved lives, like being a firefighter, or a paramedic, or a cop. But still, in his own small way, he made people happy. He made their lives that little bit brighter, or at least helped them to make sense of it.

And he loved the attention lavished upon him. It made him feel better about himself, if nothing else. It also meant he earned a steady wage, even if it wasn't lucrative (yet). One of these days, Redding promised him, he would hit the jackpot. He could easily become the next big thing; it would just take a little time.

However, the modest income didn't stop him from lavishing gifts on Angela. She deserved it after everything she'd put up with. And every day, he grew to love her more and more. The way she wrinkled her nose when she woke up in the morning, how she flicked her hair irritably over her shoulder, the dimples that formed on her cheeks whenever she really smiled. Every little detail was beginning to enchant him more and more, now he didn't have a certain distraction.

It was why he felt ready to propose to her, finally, after years of dancing around each other's toes.

She'd saved him from a life of hell with the carnival. She'd saved his world and made sure he stayed sane.

Naturally, he was delighted when she said 'yes'.

xxx

_17th August 1998_

Patrick didn't think he and Angela could have been any happier. He'd thought his world was complete. After all, he'd spent years building up his name, his identity, in California. They'd had a long engagement and had almost never spoken about the concept of children. Even after they'd wed, Angela didn't bring up the subject. In a way, Patrick thought she was simply happy to finally have him to herself, after years of sharing him with somebody else.

It had been a shock to the system when, on Christmas Day, 1997, of all days, she'd announced to him that she was pregnant with his child.

For a long while, Patrick had been apprehensive about the concept of fatherhood. After all, his relationship with his own dad had been tempestuous, to phrase it mildly. He didn't think he knew how to play that role. That was, until his squirming baby daughter was placed into his arms for the very first time.

Then, all his fears dissipated in an instant. It was at that moment that he realized he needed to be a father, to share his life with somebody else.

And that somebody else was Charlotte Anne.

(Not Teresa, Angela would have _killed_ him if he'd even dared to suggest that.)

Charlotte had him wrapped around her little finger from the moment she was born and Patrick decided he'd never have had it any other way.

xxx

_6__th__ July 2003_

As easily as his whole life, his whole identity was created; it was destroyed again in an instant.

Charlotte's blood stained the wall red.

(It would be a lifetime – literally – until the macabre smiley face was removed.)

xxx

_18__th__ January 2006_

"Be well, Patrick."

He nodded at Sophie Miller's words. Patrick knew he owed her a great deal of gratitude. After all, she had had the thankless task of putting together the pieces again. It was something that had taken her years, quite literally. When he left the psychiatric unit for the first time, he almost felt like a new man.

Only almost.

Because while Sophie had managed to put the pieces of Patrick Jane back together again, he never had the heart to tell her that she'd put them together _wrong_.

Now, he only had one quest in mind, and that was one of vengeance.

xxx

_27__th__ August 2008_

It had taken Jane a long while to make inroads into the California Bureau of Investigation. Virgil Minelli had seen through his thinly veiled excuse of wanting to do good, of wanting to give back to society, of wanting to help 'save the world'. The man was undeniably sharp as a tack and it was clear that he'd spent years honing his craft.

But Jane had earned his dues, working with various teams, doing thankless tasks and bringing down the odd criminal. Drugs dealers, fraudsters, arsonists, even a pedophile. No murderers, however and certainly not Red John. Not the one whom he'd really joined the CBI to chase. However, Minelli had decided he was 'ready'. He'd convinced the man that he genuinely wanted to help the CBI, that he wasn't so fixated on his quest for revenge that every other case was secondary to it.

Jane recognized the name of his new supervising agent the moment Minelli told it to him.

However, it wasn't until Teresa Lisbon walked through Minelli's office door that his whole world turned upside down once more.

**TBC…**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **So, I have now seen **Steps** three and a half times. Yay! Or not, because pretty much exactly halfway through seeing them on the _Ultimate Tour_ last Thursday, I suffered from a seizure, which has been making doing... most things quite difficult because I've been so tired. That's why this final chapter (and it has turned into a bona fide chapter as opposed to an epilogue) take so long for me to write, comparatively speaking. That being said, I'm glad that it's done well within the deadline for the monthly challenge on Paint It Red.

Thank you to: TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme, ClaMiAl, Ebony10, Eldanar, Brown Eyes Parker, SharpestSatire and Jisbon4ever for reviewing part six. Also to everyone who has favourited this. It's been fun going out of my comfort zone for a while!

Hope the last part has been worth the wait. As always, the plot bunnies would like to know...

x tromana

* * *

><p><strong>Part Seven<strong>

_18th __October 2012_

She waited impatiently for him to say something, anything. He was the one who'd predicted exactly where she would come after her meeting with Wainwright. Lisbon had been perfectly content to continue avoiding him until she saw fit. Or at least, until she had adjusted to all of the revelations she'd needed to deal with of late. Of course, she realized that she should have known that Jane would force her hand, would decide to take matters into his own hand. He wouldn't have been _him_ if he didn't, after all. In a strange sort of way, she figured that that made him almost as predictable as she was..

The air felt heavy between them, pregnant with thought. Lisbon shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, knowing that she was giving Jane a field day when it came to reading her body language. Deep down, she knew that sooner or later, this was always going to come to the foreground. They'd never acknowledged their past before and had simply accepted that it had been brushed under the carpet. However, that didn't ever stop it from still being there. She scrutinized him as she did so, wishing that she knew all the tricks that he did. Of course, Lisbon knew some of the basics of reading people – she needed to in order to do her job effectively. However, right now it didn't feel like enough. Jane had simply closed off and was waiting for them to talk it over instead of telling her in other, more subtle ways.

Even so, she was still coming to terms with the fact that Patrick Jane was the very same boy she had fallen in love with when she was practically just a child. Her mother had still been alive, even. And when they had been reintroduced, the connection had still been there. Lisbon would have been churlish had she tried to deny it. Instead, she had complicated her own thoughts by wondering what a boy who, ultimately, had never existed would have thought had their relationship gone anywhere.

"Well?" she eventually demanded when she could bear the silence no longer.

Jane just shrugged and Lisbon found herself sighing in frustration. Briefly she rubbed her temples before returning her focus back onto him.

"Damn it, Jane. You're the one who knew I was going to come here after my meeting – you're the one who instigated this situation. So…"

"But you're the one with the questions," he admitted and she almost looked stunned.

He was right; he'd had a lot longer to adjust to every facet of their relationship. Heck, he'd probably even realized who she was from her name alone, never mind their first meeting as coworkers at the CBI headquarters. And for years, he'd kept deathly silent about it.

"Why did you lie to me?" she finally started.

"About?" he queried.

"About who you were," she stated angrily, though it was a fair question, she decided. "When we were kids."

"I was ashamed. I hated doing what I did-"

"And yet you continued, after you left the carnival?" she persisted, still bitter.

He glanced away, unable to maintain eye contact. Quickly, he hailed a waitress and ordered a donut in order to fill the proverbial distance between them. Lisbon was growing more frustrated by the second; the only reason that she had managed to keep her anger tempered was because they were in a public domain. Then again, she suspected that this was half of his plan. It meant that she couldn't really tear him to shreds, even if she wanted to.

But really, she knew she didn't. All Lisbon wanted was to clear the air between them, to get back to some semblance of normalcy, whatever that would be. She loathed just how stilted everything between them had become and in a way, she just wanted _her_ Jane back again. Not that he was hers, not particularly. Then again, they had danced around one another for so long now, longer than she had initially realized.

"It's complicated," he admitted eventually.

"It damn well better be," she grumbled under her breath.

Jane reached out across the table between them and placed a hand gently on top of Lisbon's. She flinched and automatically retracted it before regretting the action. Awkwardly, she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her left in ear, in the hope of making her actions seem less conspicuous. However, she knew in front of somebody like Jane, that that was very unlikely.

"I tried to find you, you know."

She let out a strange noise, a mixture between a snort and a laugh. The time between his leaving the carnival circuit and joining the CBI remained much of a mystery to her. The only reason she knew about his breakdown was because of much coercion on her part. Even now, years after the admission, Lisbon could still remember the haunted look in his eyes, the one which expressed so much pain and hurt. Back then, she'd wished she could have saved him from it, but you couldn't rescue somebody retrospectively. All she had felt capable of doing was trying to pick up the pieces. And now, knowing who he once was, it made the feeling all the worse. She couldn't help but feel she could have prevented the heartache somehow.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me."

"Please, I'm not that-"

Interrupting her, Jane wordlessly slid a small book over towards her. He nodded encouragingly as she opened the cover and started to read. The handwriting was immediately familiar, though the words were unexpected. Lisbon didn't know whether or not she wanted to laugh or cry. She was relieved that Jane remained silent and merely focused on eating his donut instead. When she discovered that he partially blamed himself for her mother's death, she slammed the diary shut, feeling overwhelmed by the whole situation once more.

"What do you expect me to say?" she asked bluntly.

"Teresa-"

Rashly, Lisbon stood. This changed things, but at the same time, it didn't. He was still fixated on his fruitless quest for revenge. The only reason he had come back into her life in the first place was to avenge the death of his wife and daughter. She may have – allegedly – been his first love, but she wasn't the one he'd spent the majority of his adult life with. Instead, she'd landed up with a husk of a man and had spent nine long years trying to help him do what? Catch a killer? Or attempt to get himself killed? Sometimes, she wasn't quite sure what the difference in the two of them was.

Shaking her head, she took a few steps towards the door. She'd had enough of this and was sick and tired of him messing her around. Somehow, she knew that she would have to readjust to working with him again, find some semblance of normalcy in their working relationship. However, this talking but not simply was not helping. Instead, Lisbon felt as though she was going around in circles and didn't know whether she was coming or going.

Lisbon didn't even make it to the door. Jane caught her lightly by the wrist and spun her around gently. She growled irritably; there had been enough mind games going on between them.

"What do you _want_ from…?"

She was silenced by the feel of his lips brushing against her own. For half a second, she was in two minds, and considered breaking it off and remonstrating him. Instead, Lisbon found herself responding eagerly, burying her hands deep into his blond curls, allowing them to twist around her fingertips. As Jane teased his own hands up and down her spine, she shuddered into his touch. She was partially reminded of fleeting childhood memories – of young Zachary De Souza teasing her about kissing the psychic boy – and slowly became lost in the moment once more. There had been times lately when she had wondered what it would be like to kiss Patrick Jane, but never for an instant had she thought it would become a reality. Then again, she'd always believed their shared history was water under the bridge, something they'd never have acknowledged.

Lisbon briefly wondered if they'd ever have done so if Zachary had never been killed. And that, in a way, was kind of a tragic thought. But equally, she realized that their relationship could be like the phoenix rising from the ashes.

If either of them truly dared to take it that far, of course. Which, considering the way he kissed her with fervor, she believed was looking more likely by the second. Then again, he was probably making up for lost time; after all, this was the longest she had ever had to wait for a second kiss. They'd both been through hell and back in the time between their embraces.

"It's not quite saving the world, but you saved me at least, you know," he stated emphatically the moment he broke the embrace.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"No, really-"

"It didn't stop you from killing Timothy Carter!"

"And that made me realize just how close I came to losing you _again._ Damn it, Teresa-"

"Patrick," she countered, testing his given name on her lips.

He nodded briefly and she could only smile weakly in response.

"This isn't going to be easy."

"I know," he answered back.

"What about Red John?"

"We'll just have to cross that bridge when it comes down to it."

Lisbon opened her mouth to retort but promptly closed it again and instead, acquiesced. There had to be some give and take – their whole situation was so damn complicated. Despite Jane's admissions, she knew all too well that he had been deeply in love with Angela, that tall, willowy blonde she vaguely remembered from summers long gone. She had given him stability, a family, things that Lisbon could never have offered him. They were things that even now, she wasn't sure whether or not she would be capable of supplying him with.

But she knew she was capable of loving him; if she truly admitted it to herself, she had fallen (back?) in love with him within weeks of him joining her unit. Even with all the flaws, he was still the witty, intelligent man with a quicksilver mind who had charmed her so in her youth. And she hadn't really changed all that much either. They were both just a little more wounded, a little more broken, than they had been back then.

"Okay," she answered reluctantly.

Red John could still come between them; she knew that better than most. But equally, she knew that now was not the time to acknowledge those fears. If she did then it was more than likely to destroy the fledgling connection they were beginning to forge between the pair of them. And Teresa Lisbon knew that she was made of far stronger stuff than that. She couldn't back down to a serial killer, let him destroy something that could be so good for the both of them. If anyone deserved another shot of happiness, it was Patrick Jane.

And she figured, he'd probably assume the same of her too.

"Are you crying?"

Teresa Lisbon blinked furiously before fixating a petulant glare on Jane. It was so typical of him to immediately decide to ruin the tone, all because he couldn't keep his mouth shut. A mouth, which she had very quickly learned of late, that could be put to much better uses than irritating her. She licked her lips; she could still taste the sugar glazing from his donut on them. And naturally, she didn't mind that one bit.

"No," she denied bluntly. "Why would you think that?"

Jane simply grinned. "I'm sure I can see just a hint of moisture in the corner of your-"

"If you finish that sentence, I swear to God I'll..."

"You'll?" he enquired, still smiling broadly.

She silenced him with her own mouth. When he caught up with her and responded with vigor, Lisbon smiled into the embrace. His hands started to rake up her back once more, the clever little fingers teasing through her long hair. Lisbon sighed and decided that she could get used to this.

This, after all, was much better.

end


	8. BONUS FEATURE

Thank you to Totorsg, TwilightLover-CarlisleandEsme, Brown Eyes Parker, fseventh, ararablue, LAurore, ClaMiAl, Ebony10, matsu23, Jisbon4ever, Miss Peg, csiAngel, lil smiles, Ciissa and Divinia Serit for replying to the final part. It's much appreciated.

My main reason for posting this update is because I want to draw attention to the sequel, **The Path Not Taken**, which I am about to start posting to everyone who followed this story. I don't often write sequels - but I know a few people wanted to see one, and I had the plot idea so...

Here's a snippet of part one for your time.

x tromana

**BONUS FEATURE:**

"Yes, sir, I'll be there as soon as I can."

Lisbon ended the call and in response, Jane tightened his grip around her waist. He wasn't ready to move, not yet. It was warm and comfortable in bed and he liked knowing she was close by. Even though he was still plagued by insomnia, sharing a bed with somebody (with _her_) seemed to help him relax, if nothing else. And if he grew bored in the middle of the night, he could spend hours upon hours just watching Lisbon sleep. There was something infinitely fascinating about it, Jane had already decided.

"Wainwright?" he asked tiredly.

She merely nodded and slowly went to remove his arm from around her body. In response, Jane hugged her more tightly and started peppering butterfly kisses along her collarbone. When she shuddered ever so slightly in response, his lips curled into a gentle grin.

When Lisbon eventually came to her senses and managed to throw him off, he pouted at her. His eyes ate up the sight of her bare back hungrily, watching as she slowly reawakened each of her muscles before standing. Briefly, he tore his sight away from Lisbon's naked form to take a glance at the alarm clock. It read two thirty-seven a.m. Jane sighed; they'd been in bed for barely three hours.

"Isn't it past his bedtime?"

"Oh, hush."

He scurried across her side of the bed, just so that he could catch hold of her hand and distract her from the effort of changing once more. Lisbon scowled in her semi-tiredness and immediately pulled it away from him.

"We need to go," she asserted.

"We?" Jane quipped in response. "I think you'll find that I haven't been summoned into work at this godforsaken hour."

"Well, I'm summoning you now, or do you really want me to call you despite being in the same room?"

"It'd be polite."

"Are you, of all people, really criticizing me when it comes to manners?"


End file.
